


like an old wound reopening;

by unintentionallyangsty



Series: drive the dark things away; [1]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies), Thor: Ragnarok (2017) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Injury, Brodinsons, Brother Feels, Brotherly Angst, Brotherly Love, Brothers, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hugs, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Torture, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Loki Lives (Marvel), New Asgard, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Protective Thor (Marvel), Thor (Marvel) is a Good Bro, Whumptober, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:20:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26759371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unintentionallyangsty/pseuds/unintentionallyangsty
Summary: Loki awakens chained and afraid, and faced with an inevitable truth he can run from no longer.Following this, Loki awakens.(Whumptober 2020 Prompt #1 Fill: Shackled).
Relationships: Loki & Thor, Loki & Thor (Marvel)
Series: drive the dark things away; [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949623
Comments: 18
Kudos: 249
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	like an old wound reopening;

**Author's Note:**

> Loki & Thor. Takes place in New Asgard. Loki is alive and Infinity War has decidedly not happened. 
> 
> Written for the Whumptober 2020 Prompt #1 Fill: Shackled.
> 
> **chapter warnings !** : references to torture, and mentions of self-harm and blood. 

Loki recognized the cold spreading through his lungs before he registered the bonds encircling his wrists. 

It was all encompassing, as if each inhale was the smallest bit too short, ending on a tiny puncture of pain that grew steadily, the longer he was awake. 

And oh, how he wished that he was not. The foggy thickness still clinging at the back of his mind and throat, however, told him that he had been fighting the ever insistent pull of consciousness that had been tugging at him for quite a while, now. 

Longer than he would have ordinarily, at any rate. Not that he’d ever been very good at avoiding the inevitable. 

No, he considered humorlessly, it always had a way of catching up with him, in the end. Whether he liked it or not. 

And now, it seemed that this inevitability, too, had finally caught up with him.

Which, unsurprisingly, was something he did _not_ like. 

With a small groan at the back of his throat, Loki inhaled another pained breath toward complete wakefulness, shifting slightly to roll the tension out of his shoulders--

Only to choke back a howl of pain not seconds later, as a cold and sharp pain bit at the fragile skin of his wrists. 

Alright, he considered, swallowing down the panic he could feel beginning to claw at his chest and throat, the more he became aware of his current situation. 

Bonds. He could handle bonds.

(Had certainly done so enough times in the past to certify him as something of an expert, at any rate). 

Bonds were fine, he knew, rationally. 

What was decidedly _not_ fine, however, were these bonds specifically. 

Another step toward awareness, and Loki had to clench his teeth against the gag that wanted to rise at the back of his throat as the pain in his wrists teetered closer to flat out agony.

Though, he considered, this was due largely in part to where he could feel his Seiðr battling, weakly now, against the edges of the restraints, heedless of the sparks of pain that shot up Loki’s arms and through his chest with each thrash. 

Magic restraining, then. That was to be expected, of course. Predictable, even. 

He was all too familiar with the sensation, especially after his time on Asgard spent tethered by the bonds woven specifically by Odin himself to restrain his magic. 

And, afterward, in the cell that all but smothered the strongest flickers of his Seiðr. 

It was only the fact that the familiar sensation was coupled with that of tiny barbs on the inside of each bond around his wrists, that told Loki that this was a different kind of bondage, entirely. 

They were meant to hurt. Meant to claw at the thin skin around the wrists and draw fresh blood with each movement, however gentle.

Not that anyone wearing shackles such as these would be capable of keeping their movements gentle for long. 

Having to force his breaths to remain calm and even, now, Loki straightened to rest on his knees, wincing outright as the movement pulled on his stiff shoulders and where both his wrists were suspended behind him, one crossed over the other at mid-back, and chained to the wall behind. 

He steeled himself, his eyes slipping briefly shut as he inhaled sharply once, before tugging experimentally at one wrist. 

Almost immediately, the cold burn returned, followed after a beat by blood leaking from beneath the metal to drip slowly down his arm. 

No, he realized with a start, no longer bothering to keep his rapidly shortening breaths under control. 

There was no denying the familiarity of his surroundings any longer. 

The Children had found him. _He_ had finally found him.

And Loki could fight the inevitable no longer. 

With a cry of mingled fear and rage that echoed dimly against the cold stone surrounding him on either side, Loki began to thrash against his bonds in earnest, unheeding of the blood now steadily dribbling down both arms, or the way his Seiðr practically shrieked in agony as he continued to writhe. 

“Oh, little king.” 

All at once, Loki froze, his breath failing him as a cool numbness began to spread out from the space between his ribs. 

_No,_ he thought, a bit wildly. Not now. There was always more time. More people, more pain, more preparation, before--before _him_. Not--

Not now. 

He wasn’t prepared for this. 

“No,” he whispered, the word hardly more than a breath.

Almost automatically, his head fell forward, neck bared in a mechanically submissive gesture. 

“Come now, prince.” the voice, held low and always so infuriatingly disattached, purred as the ground rumbled with the owner’s approaching footsteps. “There’s no reason for such hostility.” 

_There’s every reason,_ Loki thought, _Every damned reason._

Instead, he said, “Oh, Mighty Thanos.” 

And, when the looming figure before him hummed in something like satisfaction, he had to fight the urge to vomit onto the ground below. 

“So perhaps you do understand submission.” Thanos murmured, and, before Loki could so much as flinch, knelt so the two were nearly at eye level. 

Or would be, if Loki could bring himself to glance up from his still hunched position, or draw his gaze away from where it was trained on his blood slowly pooling on the stones at his feet. 

“Or perhaps it is respect.” Thanos continued, his tone taking on something of a sharper tone. “If I thought that you possessed any.” 

He raised a hand, then, and ran the very edges of his knuckles against the side of Loki’s cheek. 

This time, Loki could not have stopped the gag from escaping even if he had tried. 

“You did still fail me, however.” Thanos was saying, twisting his hand back around to tuck a strand of Loki’s hair behind his ear in a nauseating mockery of tenderness. 

“And for that you must atone.” 

In less than a heartbeat, his large, muscled fingers were wrapped around Loki’s neck, his thumb stroking gently at the pulse point for a brief moment. 

“Nn--” Loki gasped, a cold sweat breaking out on his temples as he jerked weakly against the hold on his neck. “Please. _Please--_ ”

He raised his eyes, finally, and caught a brief flicker of what might have been sympathy behind the Mad Titan’s gaze… 

Only for the hand around his neck to tighten painfully not seconds later, the eyes before him hardening in a fierce satisfaction as Loki felt his windpipe first bend painfully, his breaths wheezing helplessly out from his lungs, before something _snapped--_

\---

Loki jolted awake on a choked inhale of cold air, and barely had time to register that he was tumbling forward before he hit the floor with a _thud_ and began to retch miserably. 

The cold was still there, he realized distantly, chilling his lungs further with each inhale, as were the fingers and--

And the bonds. 

With a cry of alarm, Loki jolted and fell back against the wall behind, his gaze skittering frantically around the dark of the room as he lashed out, unthinking, with his magic. 

From somewhere beyond the room came the sound of something shattering, followed by another object hitting the ground with a clatter. 

Shaking badly now, Loki pulled himself up further to collapse against the wall, and drew his still trembling hands into his lap--

Only to freeze, the breath in his lungs leaving him in a short gust of air when he took in the gouges on both his wrists.

The wounds were fresh, still sluggishly weeping blood that glimmered faintly in the moonlight streaming in from the window above his head, which meant--

Which meant that he was still _there_. Somehow, this was another illusion, another twisted game meant to lull him into a false sense of security. 

And soon, they would return. _He_ would return, and--

Another distant thud echoed from another room, and Loki jolted violently at the sound, his breaths beginning to leave him in sharp, shallow pants as the sound of hastily approaching footsteps followed. 

No. No, no no, _no, no_ \--

“No!” Loki shrieked, the back of his skull bouncing painfully off of the wall behind as he attempted to draw himself further away from the imposing figure now hovering in the doorway.

“Loki?” the figure inquired, sounding almost hesitant. 

“Stay--” Loki choked, and released a harsh cough that tugged painfully at the bands he could feel tightening around his lungs. “Stay back.” 

“I don’t wish to hurt you.” the figure continued and, unheeding of Loki’s pleas, took a step further into the room, one hand halfway outstretched. “I heard you yell.” 

Loki let out a strangled laugh, though it sounded more like a sob than anything else. 

“You’ve--you’ve heard me yell many times before.” he spat. “And yet you are still n-not satisfied.” 

He found, to his chagrin, that his teeth had begun to chatter violently, and clenched his jaw to still the movement, willing himself not to scramble another fruitless few inches back when the figure continued to advance. 

“Wha--” the voice trailed off and, to Loki’s surprise, the figure halted its movement. 

Whatever relief was won by the development, however, was short lived. For not a moment later, the looming silhouette knelt to a crouch, and Loki felt his pulse beginning to hammer wildly in his throat as it drew nearer, and--

And into the light, the small patch of moonlight illuminating the space just enough to reveal Thor’s somewhat stricken features. 

The relief that flooded Loki’s chest at the sight was near staggering, and he felt himself crumple forward slightly with the force of it, his mouth floundering open and shut for a moment--

Only for the reality of the situation to wash over him like a bucket of icy water, his breath freezing in his lungs.

_A false sense of security_ , something at the back of his mind hissed. 

“You’re not real.” he whispered, already drawing back and away from the illusion. 

Thor blinked, and a frown creased his features as he leaned ever so slightly closer.

“Loki,” Thor’s voice breathed, one of his familiar, calloused hands hovering inches away from one of Loki’s trembling knees. 

“No,” Loki snarled. “Stop. You’re not _real_.” 

“I’m real.” Thor (no, not Thor. Not. _Thor_.) argued and, if Loki didn’t know better, he would have almost mistaken the tone for hurt. 

Would have, had any of the Black Order’s illusions ever been capable of conveying such emotion. 

“Loki--” 

“Stop!” Loki cried fiercely, uncaring now of the blatant pleading tone he could hear beginning to creep in just behind his words. “Stop it! Please stop.” 

He was weeping now, he realized with a jolt of shame, hot and fat tears beginning to streak down his cheeks as he heaved for breath.

“Please.” he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut when he could no longer stand the pained expression on the illusion’s face. “Please.” 

A heavy silence followed the plea, stretching on for so long Loki was nearly able to convince himself that they had listened, for _once_ they had listened, and left, taking their illusions with them. 

Only for the hope to be shattered by the familiar voice sounding again, moments later. 

“Loki,” Thor’s voice whispered, cracking on the end of the word in a way Loki knew meant he was struggling valiantly to hold himself together. 

In a way that, Loki knew, meant that tears were imminent. 

Loki felt his heart twist at the sound, and bit his lip so fiercely he tasted blood, shaking his head and keeping his eyes clenched shut against the vision. 

“Loki, please.” the plea came again. “Please. You know me. Please look at me. Don’t do this.” 

And, Loki thought with a small and somewhat wild huff of laughter, even now and even as much as he wanted to, he could not deny that voice anything. 

When he opened his eyes, the Thor figure was still there, a small and hopeful smile crinkling at the corner of his eye. 

“That’s it.” he whispered and, before Loki could react to the movement, had laid a warm and gentle hand on Loki’s knee. “You’re alright.” 

“Th--” Loki swallowed thickly once, twice, the burning behind his eyes growing almost painful. 

“It’s me.” Thor murmured, his thumb beginning to rub soothing circles into the side of Loki's calf. “It’s only me. You’re safe, Loki.” 

Immediately, Loki barked a sharp sob, another tear streaking down his cheek as he fought the urge to bury his face behind his knees. 

“Can--” Thor paused, another frown creasing his features as he studied Loki for a long moment, as if carefully considering something, before he gently inquired, “Can I hold you?” 

Loki felt something deep within him snap at the words, and he wanted to yell, wanted to tear himself away and run and _hide--_

Instead, he found himself nodding vigorously, and hardly had time to inhale another tremulous breath before Thor was surging forward, his large and warm and _achingly_ familiar arms coming up to wrap tightly around Loki’s shuddering frame. 

“Shh,” Thor murmured when Loki released another harsh sob. “Shh shh shh. You’re alright now. It’s just me. I’m real. I’m here, Loki.” 

And, in spite of everything within him still insisting that he turn and _run_ , Loki felt himself fall further forward into the embrace, a small keen escaping him when one of Thor’s hands tangled in the hair at the back of his head. 

“Thor,” he gasped, one hand rising to grip tightly at the fabric of Thor’s flannel at his shoulder. “Thor. _Thor--_ ”

“Shh.” Thor repeated, his hand trembling ever so slightly as it ran through Loki’s hair. “It’s alright. I’m here.” 

And slowly, as Thor continued to rock them and Loki allowed himself to deeply breathe in the scent where his face was tucked against his brother’s shoulder, slowly Loki felt himself beginning to believe the words. 

“You’ve hurt yourself.” Thor murmured, after an indeterminable amount of time spent in silence, the poorly hidden disappointment in his tone almost too much for Loki to bear. 

“Oh,” Loki shifted slightly, unwilling to move away entirely, just yet, to peer down at the deep scratches marring both his wrists. 

Scratches, not puncture wounds. 

“I thought that was--that it--” he trailed off, unsure of how to properly convey the lingering sensation of the cold shackles around his wrists. 

Thor sighed softly, his chest rumbling beneath the side of Loki’s head as he did so, and raised one hand to gently take one of Loki’s wrists into his grip. 

Loki shuddered at the sensation, his skin tingling beneath the warmth, though he fought to remain motionless as Thor’s thumb rubbed softly at the edge of one of the scratches. 

“I don’t think these need bandages.” he determined, after a moment, that lingering sorrow still clinging to his words. “It was a dream?” 

Not trusting himself to speak, Loki offered one curt nod, and bit his lip again when his breath stuttered slightly in his chest on his next inhale. 

Thor hummed thoughtfully, shifting slightly so that the side of his head was resting gently atop Loki’s own. 

“It’s been a while. Since they’ve been bad enough for you to…” he trailed off, and sucked in a deep breath before continuing, “Do you want to talk about it?” 

Immediately, Loki shook his head, something like panic fluttering in the space between his ribs at the idea. 

“Alright,” Thor soothed at once, seeming to sense the tension creeping back into Loki’s form. “That’s alright, too.” 

Loki released a small breath and, after another moment, turned to bury his face into Thor’s chest, drawing what comfort he could from the warmth there, and the way he could feel Thor’s heart beating solidly just beneath the surface. 

“Would you like to go back to bed?” Thor questioned softly, his hold tightening on Loki briefly. 

“I--” Loki faltered, his heart stuttering slightly at the thought of going back to sleep, just now. 

“You don’t have to sleep.” Thor reassured. “You can simply lie down, if you wish.” 

Loki paused, considering the offer for a long moment, before he nodded hesitantly. 

“Alright,” he murmured, at last. 

Seemingly pleased to hear him speaking again, Thor hummed before turning to press a soft kiss to the top of Loki’s head. 

Somehow, they managed to get to their feet, and Loki only stumbled once (or twice) as he allowed himself to be led to Thor’s bedroom without complaint. 

By the time they were both settled on the bed, Loki tucked carefully with his back to the wall, the rest of the room in full view over Thor’s shoulder, Loki was surprised to find that his eyelids had already begun to flutter, his limbs growing heavy with exhaustion.

“You can rest easily, brother.” Thor whispered, seeming to read his mind, and reached forward to tuck one arm carefully over Loki’s shoulder. “You’re safe here.” 

And, in spite of himself, Loki found himself believing the words. 

( _For now_ , something at the back of his mind whispered, one he quickly and irritably dismissed).

(There would be time enough to consider that later, after all). 

“Thank you.” he breathed, leaning forward to rest his head wearily back onto Thor’s shoulder, his head fitting comfortably into the space as if it was meant to be there. 

“It’s alright.” Thor dismissed, the hand on Loki’s back already beginning to move in large, soothing circles. 

It was as Loki felt himself giving into the insistent pull of sleep, the final dregs of his dream beginning to fade into something more manageable (for the time being), that he felt Thor’s free hand grasp gently at his wrist again.

And, after a beat, the soft press of lips against the scratches already healing there. 

“Sleep well, brother.” 

And, with the ghost of Thor's breath still warming his wounds, Loki did. 

**Author's Note:**

> fell into the classic hurt/comfort pitfall with this one (and really, who of us can truly be surprised). aiming for a more whump/angst focus for future prompt fills! for now have This. 
> 
> a huge, _huge_ thank you to everyone who's prompted me so far for Whumptober! i'm really excited to get into filling the prompts. 
> 
> if anyone else is interested in prompting a certain day at my tumblr, the links are in the series description! xx


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